projectiles
by crispycrumblycrust
Summary: Homura starts with bullets. Mami ends with ribbons. Takes place after ep 12, but before Rebellion.


_It's not clear if Homura can still manipulate time post ep 12, but let's pretend she can here._

* * *

Homura keeps her distance. It is too late to summon her shield, give it a firm twist, and run, run, _run_ away.

The attempt will be futile. She has become predictable to Mami. Those reflexes, honed by talent and experience, will overwhelm her. She may have experienced the same month over and over again, but Mami will always have the upper hand. Without cheating. She will always be her senpai.

Yellow ribbons will find and tug her back to a warm bosom and a long, weary sigh. But every colour changes to red eventually.

Homura used to like red. Red ribbons held up pink hair and divided it in two ponytails. But later _she_ coughed up red mingled with words – a last will only Homura heard and vowed to never forget.

She has yet to succeed, always failing to honour her dying wish.

Red clashed with white so many times, drenching the fur darker and darker until it's black, but it's never enough and they always come back.

They are everywhere, these...these creatures with large, unblinking eyes. They use a child's voice to lure young girls towards servitude, and then death.

Mami leans away from the glass display, from the little boxes on the other side. The larger ones, the weapons, the rockets, the vehicles, are stored somewhere else, somewhere Homura will never take her to no matter how Mami will entice her.

She turns to Homura and clasps her hands in front of her. It draws Homura's gaze to her chest. She glances away immediately and hopes her cheeks won't flush.

Her fingers ache to turn back time. Everything was easier a few minutes ago, Mami staring at her collection, hands folded behind her back. Blond hair moved with her when she tilted her head. One time Homura accidentally snatched a large curl. Mami didn't cry out, body fatigued from the chase, mind focused on the enemy. She always allowed Homura to get away with the worst things.

Homura followed the spiral form with one finger and planted a kiss on the ends before Mami turned her head.

She must not think about the bright window display. Inside the shop employees dressed in black and white and wore grey gloves.

Homura shakes her head and meets her gaze. A mistake. No one can resist _that_ particular face.

She pulls out a small key from a pocket. Redundant. It's only glass. A small lock won't be enough if someone wants to steal the contents hidden behind glass. But there is something comforting about fitting the key in the slot and turn it – turn the shield to turn time.

Her eyes wander to green boxes, transparent boxes, boxes with stickers. She decides on a 9mm, holding it between forefinger and thumb.

Mami inhales sharply. She frowns. As if Mami hasn't seen bullets before. As if she wasn't the one that had inspired her to use weapons. As if she wasn't the one that had mentored Homura during several timelines.

"It's lovely." Mami takes a small step towards her. "May I?"

Homura shrugs. The bullet is rolling in her palm. It can't escape, just as Homura can't escape from borrowed time and memories playing over and over again in her mind. Her head would throb. Her gem would darken. She always needed to freeze time and stare at tints of grey and faded colours.

The bullet falls, but Mami catches it in the palm of her hand. Right in the middle. Bullseye.

She weighs it and brings it closer to her eyes, inspecting it.

Homura doesn't know what she's done until she feels her fingers touching the little box buried deep in her pocket. This is the effect Mami has on her. Homura wonder if she knows this. She wonders if this is the reason why they are here and not out there patrolling, keeping the city safe and their gems clean.

It's too late to run and hide. Besides, a distracted Mami is the perfect diversion, even if it's partly played – this can't be genuine awe.

Mami gasps again, and unlike her, she does drop the bullet. It falls on the ground, similar to a machine gun coughs up empty bullets shells.

Her grip tightens on the little box hidden in her pocket. The gift inside is wrinkled from the rough treatment. Homura had paid for it and quickly left the store. Only later, when the damage was already done, did she buy a box to stored it in.

Mami is speechless as she stared at the box. Homura rarely sees this. Mami is hard to surprise, in a good way. Usually Homura did – or didn't do – something that would shock her, and later caused her tears and grief.

Somehow this gives Homura the final push.

"Here." Homura presses the box in her hands.

"Ah..."

"Open it."

Mami loosens the ribbon holding the lid in place and rolls the fabric around her wrist – a makeshift bracelet. She opens the box, stares for a long minute, and carefully plucks the gift out.

She examines it the same way she did the bullet, but this time caresses it too. Mami ties it around her wrist. It can't be a coincidence that she has chosen the side her shield will appear. Homura still let her, even if this is a gift for Mami.

"There. We match now." Mami smiles, a smile that slowly turns into a grin as their gazes meet. She smiles back. The hand lingering on her wrist trails down and clasps her hand. Homura squeezes back and steps closer.

She stares at the ribbons on their wrists. The bullet Homura will take care of later.


End file.
